


We Could be Great

by Naeshira



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Gen, M/M, Poetry
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-19
Updated: 2015-07-19
Packaged: 2018-04-10 01:40:30
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4372217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Naeshira/pseuds/Naeshira
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Nursey gets introspective about his relationship with his d-partner. And writes a poem.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Could be Great

Chowder does not lose his temper. But sometimes his disappointment is enough to make you wish he did. “You could be so great.” He says it sadly, and Nursey feels a stab of guilt in his chest. Because Chowder has hopes and dreams of a better world. Specifically, a world where his best friends can get along. 

_We could be great._ That phrase sits in his mind. Every time they fight. Every time they miss a pass. Every time that he and Dex sit together on the bus, discordant like second intervals on a piano. 

 

_We could be great, you and I_  
_There is fire enough between us_  
_The ice should melt beneath our skates_

 

Because Chowder is right. They could be great. They could be the next best defensive duo in the ECAC. (They can’t come close to Ransom and Holster, no one disputes that.) They’ve protected the net together, and blocked shots, and cleared the zone, and when they want to be, they’re smoother than the ice they skate on. 

Enough of the discord is his own fault; he’s aware enough to know that. Teasing Dex is _so_ easy; it’s like Nursey wins a little every time he turns red. But Dex can be devastatingly spot-on with his retorts, and it turns from a game into a fight. And no one can say they aren’t competitive assholes, so the fights don’t end until someone wins. Or Chowder intervenes. 

 

_We could be great, if I_  
_Tried to calm my words_  
_Let them flow like I want_  
_Let them sound like I want_  
_Let them mean what I want._

 

So, as with most of his emotions, Nursey buries that frustration under his chill, and lets it lose on paper. His poem is scrawled on the back of his chemistry syllabus, tucked conveniently into his book, and shoved to the bottom of his bag. It’s marked with scratch-outs and circles, and after a couple of days, Nursey went back over it with a red pen to add conventional editing marks to the verses. 

The final draft is written in his poetry journal, and hidden beneath his mattress. Nursey could write (and has written, somewhere in a history notebook) a sonnet to Dex’s freckles, but this? It’s free verse, because their relationship has no sense of rhyme, and very little rhythm. Their structure is made of hockey and Chowder and the Haus, and the meter of his poem is similarly stretched out. 

 

_We could be great, but I_  
_Like it when my words make you go as red as our jerseys_  
_And the words you say in return make me lose my rhythm_  
_Lose my rhyme._  
_Lose my meter._  
_Until all I see is red._  
_Your red._  
_You’re red._  
_Our red?_

 

But then, they win a game. And Dex makes a beautiful pass that hit’s Nursey’s stick on the tape, and he sends it sailing past the goalie’s glove. And the team is tackling them into the glass, and the crowd is cheering, and at the other end of the rink Chowder is circling his net in celebration with his stick in the air. And the next day, Nursey changes the final verse. 

Because sometimes he wants to slapshot a puck into Dex’s face. But sometimes they are a blur of Samwell red on the blue line, stopping opponents and winning games. And eventually, Nursey knows, they will be great. 

And eventually, Nursey knows, he’ll slide the poem in front of Dex, and watch his face go red as he reads it. And Nursey will feel the familiar triumph of getting a rise out of Dex, but it’ll feel sweeter. Like a lost little poem that finally finds its rhyme. 

 

_We will be great, you and I._  
_Let’s make that blue line turn red._

~

The poem in full:

We could be great, you and I  
There is fire enough between us  
The ice should melt beneath our skates

We could be great, if I  
Tried to calm my words  
Let them flow like I want  
Let them sound like I want  
Let them mean what I want.

We could be great, but I  
Like it when my words make you go as red as our jerseys  
And the words you say in return make me lose my rhythm  
Lose my rhyme.  
Lose my meter.  
Until all I see is red.  
Your red.  
You’re red.  
Our red?

We will be great, you and I.  
Let’s make that blue line turn red.

**Author's Note:**

> The fact that Nursey is 'more of a poetry guy' is one of my favorite things about him, and poet!Nursey is way too much fun to think about. So I wrote him a poem. Well, a wrote a poem from him to Dex. And then made an introspective drabble of sorts to go with it. 
> 
> Not nearly as romantic as I had first planned, but we can think of this as pre-relationship. 
> 
> Hope you enjoyed!


End file.
